Turncoat's Road
by MissSage
Summary: What happens when a Slayer passes her prime? It’s Buffy’s 25th birthday and she’s about to find out. B/S


Title: Turncoat's Road  
Author: Miss Sage  
Email: sagemail76@yahoo.com  
Rating: R  
Category: Romance; Drama; Angst  
Keywords: Buffy/Spike  
Spoilers: Not too many – up to but not including The Body  
Disclaimer: BTVS belongs to Joss & Co., the WB and/or UPN  
Archive: Just please let me know where it's headed.   
Feedback: Would be great.  
  
Summary: What happens when a Slayer passes her prime? It's   
Buffy's 25th birthday and she's about to find out.  
  
Notes: This story's universe diverges from the traditional   
Buffyverse sometime after Crush and before The Body. Joyce never   
died of brain cancer and Buffy never took a header off the   
construction tower at the end of Season 5. The gang found some   
other way to beat Glory. Got it? Good.  
  
  
Turncoat's Road  
by Miss Sage  
  
  
CHAPTER 1: Birthday Present  
  
  
The glorious night was turning out to be the best birthday Buffy   
had ever had. It was a milestone, really, and not just because   
of the kick-ass party her mother and Giles had thrown in her   
honor. No, the truly remarkable thing about this particular   
birthday was the simple fact that no Slayer had ever made it so   
far, lived so long. An excellent reason to celebrate, by   
anyone's standards.  
  
The hall Joyce had secured and decorated so elegantly was packed   
with love and friendship. Dancing around Buffy were all the   
people she couldn't live without and also many of the folks she'd   
helped save over the years. The music the band pumped out was   
full of joy and life and affirmation. Heroic songs for a most   
heroic birthday girl.  
  
Twirling to the music, Buffy looked up at the beautiful glass   
ceiling above her and to the moon beyond. With a wide smile, she   
thanked the Powers That Be for such a fine time, and for her   
extraordinary life.  
  
As the song ended, Willow amicably bumped Buffy's hip with her   
own. "Joyce says it's time for cake and presents!" she said   
loudly so all around could hear.  
  
"Presents!" Buffy yelped as another song started up. Latching   
one hand onto Xander's offered arm and throwing her other arm   
around Willow's shoulders, Buffy led her friends and admirers to   
find her mom and the giant birthday cake everyone had been   
drooling over all evening.  
  
"Make a wish!" someone shouted a few minutes later as Buffy took   
up a long baker's knife and prepared to cut the cake.  
  
Grinning, Buffy held the knife up triumphantly and made her wish;   
"Another twenty-five ass-kicking years!" she bellowed.  
  
The crowd around her cheered, and she made the first cut into the   
soft, stake-shaped cake. Sticky strawberry filling coated the   
knife as she pulled it out. To her friends' delight she made a   
show of licking the tasty treat from the blade.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Joyce took over serving the dessert. Buffy   
laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek.  
  
"So, Buff, you've officially made it to your mid-twenties,"   
Xander mused as he snuck a taste of frosting.  
  
"Actually," Dawn said around a mouthful of strawberries, "not for   
about another half hour, right Mom?"  
  
"10:43 P.M., to be exact," Joyce said.  
  
"Is that counting time zones?" Xander asked with a lopsided grin.   
"Where were you born, anyway, Buffy?"  
  
"San Diego. So time zones don't matter, smarty pants," Buffy   
said. Like a little girl, she poked her tongue out at her   
friend.  
  
Laughing, Joyce offered Buffy a piece of cake. "Later, Mom,"   
Buffy said. "Presents now! C'mon, Dawny, you pick!" Truly   
happy for the first time in a long time, Buffy grabbed her   
sister's hand and dragged her over to the long table stacked with   
gifts.  
  
Each present, be it funny or sentimental, brought tears one by   
one to Buffy's eyes. She was sure her makeup was ruined by the   
time Dawn handed her the last package thirty minutes later. It   
was from Giles.   
  
She opened the package to find a solid gold medallion. In the   
center was a rendering of Mary, mother of Jesus. Mother of God.   
Buffy was never overtly religious, but the tears gathering in her   
eyes finally broke free and slid down her cheeks over the symbol   
of purity, peace, protection, and love.   
  
On the back of the pendant was a simple inscription: Thank you,   
Buffy. Love, Giles  
  
Wanting to thank him for such a beautiful gift, she looked around   
for her Watcher. Giles was running security for the party even   
though Buffy thought such strict precautions were unnecessary   
that night. She caught his eye where he watched her from the   
edge of the crowd. He waved, looking a little embarrassed.   
Buffy made sure he was looking as Dawn hung the pendant around   
her neck next to the gold cross she always wore. Giles smiles   
shyly.  
  
Once the presents were opened and their givers properly thanked,   
people dispersed back to their tables, the bar, or the dance   
floor. Buffy excused herself to the ladies' room to freshen up   
her makeup. Dawn tagged along, handing her sister a tissue to   
wipe the tears from her face.  
  
The two young women slipped out of the ballroom and down a dim   
hallway. Before they reached the restrooms, however, Buffy   
grabbed her sister's arm and stopped them both short. "Oh no,"   
she moaned.  
  
"What?" Dawn asked.  
  
"What's he doing here?" Buffy nodded toward the dark figure with   
the unmistakable shock of white-blond hair lurking rather   
nervously outside the men's room.   
  
Dawn's face lit up when she saw him. "Spike!" she yelped and   
bounded away from her sister. She threw her arms around the   
vampire's neck. He spun her around joyously. Buffy tried not to   
grind her teeth.  
  
A minute later Dawn took Spike's arm and led him toward Buffy.   
Buffy wondered if there was another restroom somewhere else that   
she could escape to. Not that the ladies' room would keep Spike   
out if he wanted in.   
  
As he approached, Buffy had to admit he was quite stunning in his   
entirely black tuxedo. No bowtie, of course, but he really   
didn't need one.   
  
Stopping not a foot in front of her, he looked Buffy steadily in   
the eye. His hands, however, fumbled with the ribbon wrapped   
around the small gift box he held close to his body.  
  
"Slayer," he greeted with a slight nod.  
  
Buffy just shook her head. "I was right," she muttered.  
  
Spike's brow furrowed. "Bout what?"  
  
Buffy released an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Oh, nothing.   
I just really thought that none of the bad guys would be stupid   
enough to crash this party."  
  
"I was invited," Spike said indignantly.  
  
Buffy shot Dawn a glare.   
  
Dawn frowned. "Well, he was," she murmured.  
  
"Dawn, give us a minute," Buffy ordered.  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, come on…"  
  
"Dawn."  
  
"Fine. Excuse me, Spike," Dawn said in a clipped tone before she   
turned and headed off to the ladies' room.  
  
"She's grown up real well, Slayer," Spike commented   
appreciatively as he watched Dawn go.  
  
"Don't even look at her," Buffy snapped. Blinking, the vampire   
turned his cold blue eyes back to hers. "I can't believe you,   
Spike. You may have wormed your way back into my family's good   
graces over the years, but you have no business showing up at   
this party."  
  
"Buffy, I just wanted to…"   
  
"You just don't give up, do you? You just won't let me go."  
  
Spike snorted. "That's arrogant, Slayer."  
  
"Sure. How long has it been, anyway, Spike?"  
  
"Since I told you I loved you? Or since you finally got me to   
leave town?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Either way, it's been a while. Why didn't it   
stay that way?"  
  
Spike's jaw tightened. Something that looked like hurt flashed   
across his face but then disappeared. "Look, Slayer," he said   
through clenched teeth, "I didn't come here to fight about the   
past, or to try and get into your pants. I just thought it…"  
  
Buffy cut him off with a bitter laugh. "That's really rich,   
Spike. When have you ever tried to do anything with me besides   
fight or, well, that other thing?"  
  
So fast she didn't even see it coming, Spike's hand shot out and   
grabbed Buffy by the arm. She gasped as he pulled her body flush   
against his. "Would you let me get a bloody word in?!" he   
shouted into her face, his lips practically brushing against her   
own.  
  
Buffy's mouth narrowed. "Fine. Talk, then leave. You have ten   
seconds."  
  
"That is so typical of you," he grumbled, but he relaxed his grip   
on her.   
  
"I just thought," he began with forced calm, "that it would be   
nice if I came by and told you how proud I am of you for making   
it this far. The devil knows I haven't helped that much."  
  
Buffy blinked at Spike and his kind words. Her mouth dropped   
open. She wished he had never shown his pretty face. It was so   
much easier to regard him with distrust and scorn rather than   
faith and friendship.   
  
With a toss of her long blond hair, she shook off her shock.   
"You really didn't come here to try to get in my pants?" she   
asked dubiously.  
  
Spike huffed. "Forget it, Slayer," he said. "Just…here, take   
this." He shoved the gift he carried into her hands, pushed past   
her, and headed for the exit. Buffy turned and watched him go.  
  
He was almost through the door when he stopped to look back at   
her. Moonlight painted soft blue over his face, the color of   
both cold and comfort. It brought Buffy back years to a summer   
evening on a hillside overlooking the cemetery, their cemetery.   
Back to a time not long after he'd sworn love, she'd sworn   
hatred, and still he'd stuck around to help defeat Glory, to help   
save her sister. A time when she couldn't stop thinking about   
him until she found him sitting on that hillside smoking a   
cigarette.   
  
It was the one and only time she ever willingly let him capture   
her lips in a kiss so visceral, so hot, every cell in her body   
was set aflame as he plundered her mouth. When he had released   
her, she'd been unable to do anything but run away down the hill,   
fast and furious, before his dark passion burned her right into   
the ground.  
  
It still, years later, ate her up inside to know that she had   
never experienced a truly soul-searing kiss other than his, her   
mortal enemy's. Not even with Angel. Not anywhere close. She   
squeezed the small package she held in her hand. Spike tossed   
her a regretful little smile from the doorway.  
  
"Hey, where's Buffy? It's 10:43!" Xander shouted from somewhere   
inside the ballroom.   
  
Then out of nowhere Buffy hit the floor. White-hot pain split   
her chest. The pain lanced down her limbs and out her fingertips   
and her toes. She felt as though her very essence was being   
drained into the floor beneath her. She started to convulse.   
Spike's gift rolled across the carpet, forgotten.  
  
A firm hand grabbed her chin, forced her to look up into blue   
eyes. Spike's eyes. They were steady and sure. But there was   
panic in his voice when he shouted for Joyce and for Dawn.  
  
Buffy moaned and tore at her own skin, trying to release the pain   
and pressure from her body. Spike tried to comfort her,   
pillowing her head in his lap. He stroked her cheek with his   
thumb and cooed to her. "It's okay, love. Help's coming. Help   
is coming."  
  
In the few seconds before help did arrive, however, Buffy's pain   
disappeared as suddenly as it had come. She sat up slowly, her   
head still ringing from the attack. Her mother, Giles, and Dawn   
hovered in front of her. Harsh lines of worry creased their   
faces.  
  
"What happened? Did you do this?" Giles snapped at Spike.  
  
"No! I was just on my way out, damn it," Spike growled   
indignantly.  
  
Feeling dizzy, Buffy started to sway. Spike wrapped his arms   
around her waist for support. Weakly, she shook her head, tried   
to push his hands away. "I'm fine. Get off me," she insisted.   
  
Spike's eyes widened at the lightness of her touch. "Bloody   
hell, Slayer," he hissed in her ear, "you're weak as a kitten.   
Let me help you."  
  
"Fat chance, Spike," Buffy grumbled. She wiggled against him as   
he tried to gather her into his arms. It wasn't much of a   
struggle to begin with, but both vampire and woman stilled when   
the loud sound of shattering glass boomed in from the ballroom.  
  
Through the ballroom's wide double doors Buffy could see the   
glass ceiling cave in. Behind it shadowy figures of evil dropped   
from roof to dance floor. Guests screamed and scattered.  
  
Giles rose in an instant. His face grim, he pulled his favorite   
pump-gun from his long, tweedy coat. Xander had rigged the gun   
to shoot fat wooden bullets.   
  
Giles turned to Spike as he readied the weapon. Spike was   
already tossing the weakly struggling Slayer over his shoulder.   
"Get her out of here!" the Watcher ordered. "Dawn and Joyce,   
stay close to me!"  
  
Spike looked worriedly at the other women. At their nodded   
encouragement, he took off for the front door, sweeping Buffy out   
into the night.  
  
Several nasties immediately set upon them. Buffy ignored the   
ghouls and vamps and demons. Her attention was fixed only on the   
hall from which Spike hauled her as though they were being chased   
by the Devil himself.  
  
"Let me go, you bastard," she shouted, punching him in the back.   
"My family's in there!"  
  
"Shut up, Slayer. Giles will take care of it," Spike told her as   
he leaped a row of bushes and landed on the sidewalk. Buffy's   
stomach came down hard on his shoulder. She groaned as bile   
surfaced at the back of her throat.  
  
"Don't heave down the back of my tux, Slayer," Spike warned   
grimly as he tore off down the street.  
  
"Fuck you, Spike," Buffy murmured. Then her head lolled and the   
world faded to black.  
  
  
Buffy woke up to the smell of mint. Her body was tucked into the   
softest bed she'd ever imagined. When she moved, silky sheets   
glided across her bare arms and legs. She blinked the sleep out   
of her eyes to see that her head shared a fluffy, white pillow   
with a tiny piece of chocolate. The gold letters on the wrapping   
read "Sunnydale Regency Hotel."  
  
Wondering how she'd ended up in such a classy place, she sat up   
and scanned the elegant room. The events of the night came back   
to her the instant she saw Spike lurking by the window. He held   
the curtains apart and glared down into the street below. He'd   
shed his jacket and cumberbund and un-tucked his shirt. He   
looked rumpled and worried, but that didn't quell Buffy's outrage   
over his presence.  
  
"When did you stop slumming it, Spike?" she asked bitterly as she   
swung her legs over the side of the bed.  
  
Spike let the curtain fall back over the window. With a shrug,   
he dropped into the chair next to the expensive-looking cherry   
wood desk. "Checked in here earlier today," he said as he lit a   
cigarette. He pinned Buffy with cool eyes, blew a breath of   
smoke in her direction. "Don't think anyone round town knows   
though. Cept you. And the Watcher now."  
  
"You talked to Giles? Is everyone all right?"  
  
"Cuts and bruises, mostly. Most of the guests ran off home when   
the fighting started. Your chums are all holed up at the Magic   
Shop right now."  
  
"Great, let's go," Buffy said, forgetting for a moment that she   
and the vampire broken their alliance years ago. Grumbling at   
her mistake, she looked down to find that she still wore her gown   
from the party. She smoothed it out as she stood and then   
checked that her legs were steady beneath her. No more   
collapsing, she told her body as she headed for the door.  
  
Spike was up in a flash, blocking Buffy's escape. "Not so fast   
there, ducks."  
  
"Outta the way, fangbreath." Buffy scowled as she tried to push   
past him.   
  
Spike grabbed her arm, hard. She tried to shake him off as he   
spoke into her ear. "Watcher's got reason to believe every   
beasty in Sunnyhell is out to get a piece of you tonight, Slayer.   
Plannin' to deliver some birthday wishes of their own as I see   
it. This building's got top-notch security. Safest place for   
you tonight is here with me."  
  
"Oh, is that why you've been watching the street since we got   
here?" Buffy said sarcastically.  
  
"Just bein' cautious, Slayer."  
  
Buffy shook her head impatiently. "Are my mom and Dawn at the   
shop with Giles?"  
  
"They are," Spike said with a nod.  
  
"Then so am I."   
  
Buffy tried to pull from Spike's grip, but the vampire's hand   
wouldn't budge. Frustrated, Buffy balled a fist and popped him   
one in the nose.  
  
"Yeow!" she howled as her knuckles crunched and pain shot up her   
arm.  
  
Spike hadn't even bothered to rub his nose. "What happened to   
you, Slayer?" he asked with a smirk. "You can do better than   
that!"  
  
Buffy ignored him. She watched her hand swell and turn red as   
though it belonged to someone else. Spike took a step closer and   
had a look for himself. "Bloody hell, Slayer," he said quietly.   
"Either I've gone and got me an iron skull, which I haven't, or   
you've…"  
  
"Lost my powers. Oh my God." Refusing to believe it, Buffy   
socked Spike in the stomach. He doubled over, and for a second   
she felt relieved. When he looked back up at her, however, his   
face was contorted by laughter, not pain.  
  
"This isn't funny, Spike," Buffy snapped. She pushed rather   
ineffectually at his shoulders.  
  
"Oh, it is a bit from my point of view, pet." His eyes were   
alight and he was just barely controlling his giggles. He jumped   
playfully back from Buffy. "Come on, big bad Slayer. Come and   
get me," he teased.  
  
Buffy took a step toward him but didn't risk embarrassing herself   
by throwing another punch. "I'm gonna kill you, Spike," she   
growled.  
  
The vampire had her up against the door in an instant. "Are you,   
now?" he asked. Buffy wondered for the first time that night if   
he still had the chip in his head.  
  
He'd pinned both her wrists behind her back with one hand,   
pressing his chest intimately to hers. His breath was heavy in   
her face and smelled of smoke and wine and trouble. "Probably   
not the best idea you've had, Slayer," he said. "As of now, I'm   
the best protection you've got." He dipped his chin and brushed   
his lips over her cheek, breathing in her scent while he was   
there. Then, very gently, he released her.  
  
Before Buffy managed to say anything, the vampire had grabbed his   
duster from the coat-rack, taken her again by the arm, and was   
escorting her from the hotel.  
  
  
No one at the Magic Shop had been happy to see Spike arrive with   
Buffy, but she didn't care enough to try to convince him to   
leave. Everyone knew the now truth anyway, that they could use   
his protection.   
  
Since she'd told them of her condition, Buffy had hung back from   
her friends and family, lurking in the dark behind the cash   
register. She had no idea what to do with her new, helpless   
self. Spike hovered nearby, the same old restless spirit he'd   
always been.  
  
Giles was on the phone with the Council. From the sound of the   
conversation, they didn't seem to have any answers either. He   
made them promise to continue to research and then hung up. He   
stood there for a moment looking at the cordless receiver as   
though it had betrayed him.  
  
"Giles?" Willow finally asked timidly from her seat at the round   
research table.  
  
The Watcher set the phone gently down on the table. The soft   
scrape of plastic on wood was the only sound in the room.   
  
"I – I'm sorry," he finally stuttered. He turned to Buffy. Her   
stomach sank. "Buffy, why don't you come over here and sit   
down?"  
  
Buffy glanced at Spike. His eyes were dark; he looked as sick as   
she felt. For a moment she flirted with the ridiculous thought   
of grabbing his hand and running out with him, into the night.   
Away from whatever horrible thing Giles had to tell her.  
  
As though he could read her mind, Spike shook his head ever so   
slightly. He set his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and guided   
her to the table with a gentle hand at the small of her back.  
  
Joyce pulled Buffy down into the seat next to her. She held her   
mother's hand as Giles began to speak.  
  
"The – um – the Council has just been informed that a new Slayer   
has been called," the Watcher said quietly.  
  
Buffy's brow furrowed. "But I'm not dead," she said. She looked   
around at her companions. "Right?"  
  
"No, no of course not," Giles reassured her. "The thing, you   
see, is that we don't really know much about what happens to a   
Slayer once she reaches your advanced years, Buffy."  
  
"Could you make me sound any more geriatric, Giles?" Buffy   
snapped.  
  
Giles looked down. He started fiddling nervously with a book on   
the table. "I'm not saying that you're old, Buffy. I'm saying   
what we all know – that no Slayer in recorded history has ever   
reached her twenty-fifth birthday. And we simply cannot pass off   
as coincidence the fact that you lost your powers at the exact   
instant you officially turned 25. That being tonight at 10:43   
PM."  
  
"Yeah, I know when it was. So what are you saying? That the   
Powers what? Retired me?"  
  
"Well, yes, that is the theory."  
  
"But nobody knew it would happen." Buffy sighed and rubbed her   
tired eyes. She could feel herself going numb inside, rejecting   
Giles' words and theories and truths. She could feel everyone's   
eyes on her, but all were quiet.  
  
Then, with a frustrated growl, Spike jumped into the fray,   
slamming his hand down on the table. "Have you all gone daft?"   
he nearly shouted. "You're leaving out the most important part!"  
  
"And what's that, Einstein?" Xander asked dully.  
  
"That, throwing coincidences aside, mind you, every bloody demon   
in Sunnyhell burst into that ballroom not one minute after Buffy   
hit the big two-five. Not one minute after she lost her powers,"   
he said in a huff.  
  
"Meaning…"  
  
"Somebody did know," Buffy finished.  
  
  
Spike found Buffy a while later sitting alone in the dark   
training room. Her back was against the wall, her legs pulled up   
into her chest. Spike put his back to the wall himself and slid   
down to the ground next to her.  
  
"I reckon whoever knew and spread the word is old. From back   
before any records were put down. Kept the secret for a long   
time," he mused as he fished in his pocket for a light for the   
cigarette that dangled from his lips. "I mean, it's hard, ain't   
it, to believe you're the only one to ever make it to twenty-  
five."  
  
Buffy blew out a harsh breath and let her head fall back against   
the wall. "Someone that old must be awfully powerful. Why don't   
the good demons ever live that long?"  
  
"The Key did," Spike said with a shrug. He'd finally found a   
match and he lit up effortlessly.  
  
"Yeah, but she's not the Key anymore. And I'm not the Slayer.   
So why stir up such a frenzy to kill me when I'm no longer a   
threat?"  
  
"Revenge? Psychosis? Dunno. And maybe you're more of a threat   
now than you give yourself credit for."  
  
"Yeah, and you've suddenly grown a soul," Buffy said   
sarcastically. Spike frowned and she seized the moment to sit up   
and pluck the cigarette from his lips. She held it awkwardly up   
to her own mouth.  
  
"I'm all for you bein' naughty, Slayer," Spike said as he deftly   
snatched his smoke back from Buffy before she could take a puff,   
"but this stuff'll kill ya."  
  
Sighing, Buffy slumped back against the wall. "It does look like   
I'm set to have a nice long, normal life now, doesn't it?"  
  
Spike threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, Slayer. You might   
even have to go to work!"  
  
"Fantastic. Probably should have thought more carefully when I   
picked my major," Buffy grumbled. She hung her head between her   
knees and fought to keep depression from overwhelming her. How   
could she be anything but the Slayer? It was all she knew.   
  
Spike sat quietly, puffing on his cigarette. Surprisingly, the   
silence between them was comforting rather than terribly awkward.   
It was broken soon enough though by the heated voices of Buffy's   
loved ones floating in from the research room.  
  
"You know," Buffy said after a while, "it's not safe for any of   
them as long as I'm here. Not with every demon in Sunnydale   
coming after me."  
  
Spike nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. "Guess we better hit   
the road, then," he said as he stood up and brushed himself off.  
  
"You're hilarious, Spike. What makes you think I would go   
anywhere with you?"  
  
"C'mon, Slayer. Thought we'd been over this," he said with a   
grin. He put up his fists and bounced around a bit, shadow   
boxing. "You need a protector, for once, and I'm all you've   
got."  
  
Buffy snickered at his idea. "Yeah, and how do I know you're not   
going to throw me to the wolves first chance you get?"  
  
Spike dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes were deadly   
serious when he looked down at her. "When was the last time I   
let you down, Buffy?" he asked quietly.  
  
Buffy was about to laugh at his solemnity, but something stopped   
her and made her think about what he'd said. It really had been   
a long time since he'd messed up, hurt her and her friends, or   
hindered instead of helped her cause. And the thought of running   
- something she'd sworn she'd never do - all alone saddened her   
profoundly. Spike was strong, irritating but amusing, and he   
couldn't hurt her. Or could he?  
  
"You still have the chip in your head?" she asked bluntly.  
  
"You're wanting some insurance. Smart girl." He spoke lightly,   
but his face was grim. Swiftly, he knelt down before Buffy and   
slapped her across the face.  
  
"Yeow!" they both howled at the same time. Buffy touched her   
stinging cheek and Spike fell over onto the floor, clutching his   
head.  
  
"Smarts, don't it?" he said, groaning. When he finally sat back   
up, he looked at Buffy almost shyly from behind his long, long   
eyelashes. "Well, what do you say, Slayer?" Slowly, he offered   
her his hand.  
  
Buffy shook her head at herself. "I can't believe I'm doing   
this, but you're on, Spike." She slipped her hand into his and   
they stood up together. "Maybe along the way we'll find out who   
ruined my birthday party."  
  
Spike snickered. "And I'd thought I had that honor."  
  
"So did I, Spike. So did I."  
  
  
  
  
End Chapter 1  



End file.
